


Hair of the Dog

by monicawoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Community: ohsam, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 22:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monicawoe/pseuds/monicawoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam & Brady have a little too much to drink and Sam wakes up with a killer headache. Luckily, Brady has a cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair of the Dog

Sam woke up with a headache so awful he could barely force his eyes open. Once he did, he immediately regretted it. The pain doubled, and he turned away from the blinding light coming in through the crack between his curtains. He rolled over on his pillow, to find Brady lying next to him.

His roommate's eyes flipped open and he smiled, sleepily.

Sam couldn't quite manage a smile back, and winced when a new lance of pain shot through his head.

"You okay?" Brady asked, his smile fading into concern.

"No," Sam said, and his own voice sounded overloud in his head.

"Hang on, I'll be right back."

The mattress dipped slightly and then sprung back up as Brady climbed out of the bed.

Sam made a few attempts at opening his eyes again, long enough to grasp that Brady was getting dressed, but by the time their door opened, he was already falling back into an exhausted half-sleep. His head still throbbed too intensely for true sleep though, and when Brady returned a short while later, Sam didn't feel any more rested.

"Okay give me about two minutes here, buddy. I'll get you vertical." Brady said, walking out of sight into the little common area that held both their kitchen and 'living room.' There were sounds of clinking glass and water running and then Brady's voice was right next to him again saying, "Okay, here comes the hard part. You have to sit up."

"No," Sam said. "Can't."

"That's pretty funny coming from you," Brady said, his voice quieting. "Didn't have a problem holding me up last night."

And then Sam remembered. Not everything. Just bits and pieces. The bar, and shot after shot after shot, and stumbling home with Brady and the taste of his lips. He opened his eyes and found Brady smiling at him again, a bit more of a smirk than before. He was holding a tall glass filled with red liquid.

Sam wrinkled his nose at the smell. "What is that? It stinks." He pushed himself up onto his elbows with great effort.

"You've never heard of a Bloody Mary?" Brady asked. "Come on that's like—not even possible."

"Where's the celery?" Sam asked.

"You're joking right?" Brady scoffed. "Look, I was willing to run over to Phi Theta and ransack their liquor cabinet, but I'm not running all the way off-campus for vegetables at—" He glanced down at his watch. "Nine forty-five in the morning."

"Nine forty-five!" Sam gasped. His Sociology class had started twenty minutes ago. "Shit, my class." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood and cried out as the pain in his head doubled. He fell back onto the bed in agony.

"Yeah, you're not going anywhere today, champ," Brady offered the glass to Sam again who took it gratefully.

He could taste the worcestershire sauce, and the tomato, but there was something else underneath too that reminded him of eggs and made him want to gag. But he swallowed obediently and after a few seconds, the pressure in his head started to lessen.

"Huh? Helps, don't it?" Brady asked.

Sam took another two gulps. "You don't have to sound so smug about it."

Grin widening, Brady leaned back against the side of Sam's desk and straightened his legs. "I may know a thing or two."

A combination of the alcohol in the drink and a string of memories from the night before made Sam's skin flush. Brady definitely knew a few things. Bits and pieces were coming back to him—stuttering flashes of images and sensations: the two of them stumbling into their room, lips already pressed together. Brady dropping to his knees, the feel of his mouth as it kissed its way lower and lower down his stomach. He'd said things that would've made Sam laugh under any other circumstance, _'Anything for you, my king,'_ but in the midst of that much pleasure all that did was heighten his arousal. He remembered biting down on Brady's skin, a surge of pleasurable strength filling him that made his mind feel like it was filling with light.

Brady's grin faded a bit as he watched Sam's expression shift and he leaned forward, tilting his head to the side. "You know, last night—"

"Oh my god!" Sam said as he saw the side of Brady's neck. There were two large bruises near his shirt collar that he hadn't noticed until now. Dark purple and painful looking. "I'm so sorry, I—"

"Don't be sorry," Brady said, bringing his fingers to the bruised spots. "That was actually a highlight for me."

"I—I thought…" Sam put the glass down on his nightstand and moved closer to Brady, trying to get a better look at the bruises. "I thought I broke the skin." He remembered Brady pushing his head down hard against the side of his neck, remembered him moaning as he bit down, and he remembered a coppery taste on his tongue. He could still taste it.

"Did you?" Brady pushed harder against the bruises and shrugged. "Doesn't feel broken."

"No, I'm sure, I—I mean I thought I did." Sam's ears felt like they were burning, and out of lack of anything better to do he grabbed the glass again and started finishing off the Bloody Mary. There was still that weird aftertaste, but it was without a doubt making him feel much, much better.

"Last night…" Brady said, meeting Sam's eyes, "If you're uncomfortable with it, it doesn't have to happen again. It's just something we did."

"I'm not uncomfortable. Well, hangover aside," Sam said. "I just wish we hadn't had so much to drink. I can barely remember anything."

"That a fact?" Brady slid forward, a few feet. "Want me to remind you?"

Sam swallowed down the last of his drink and set the empty glass on his night-stand. He brought his hand up to Brady's neck and gently touched the purpling marks there. "Yeah," he said, leaning forward into a kiss. He could still taste copper on his tongue.  



End file.
